


Mood For Trouble

by regim0n_z



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Near Death Experiences, Songfic, Suicidal Ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 04:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30134286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regim0n_z/pseuds/regim0n_z
Summary: Axel comes dangerously close to feeling something.
Kudos: 3





	Mood For Trouble

It happened after Roxas and his light and dark keyblades beat him down within an inch of his life. He really thought that was the end. His flames burnt out, chakrams fizzled to nothing. Was completely ready to submit himself to that great big void, or whatever. Wherever nobodies ended up once their nonexistence ceased to exist. 

That was okay. He didn’t really want to see what they were going to do to Roxas afterwards.

But somebody pulled him out of it, from the deep, dark corridor he let himself melt into, and kept that from happening.

And he found himself in the last place he wanted to be. A great big gray hall, not dark, not light. Extravagant in its non-extravagance. A black coat stood over him. 

“Don’t be dramatic. You’re not dying yet,” Saix said.

“Yeah?” Axel groaned out. Eying the burning city that was his torso. Little pieces of himself burned off of him, floating off into the air, then vanished. “Then why do I feel like I am?”

“Because you failed,” Saix said with venom. Not a hint of concern or reverence showed in his voice. He circled around Axel’s sprawled out form like a shark, not really looking at him, just the floor. “But Xemnas isn’t ready to dispose of you yet. According to him, the beating you took from our traitor is punishment enough. Get up.”

“I can’t…”

“You’re not even trying.”

Saix waited. Stubbornly hovering over him, saying, he wouldn’t ask twice, without really having to say it. And Axel guessed he couldn’t disobey an order from his senior, dying or not. He brought up his knees, hissed in pain when he tried forcing himself onto his side, but managed dragging himself up anyway. Even as entire pieces of his being threatened fall off him and disappear at the sudden tensing of muscles. Saix didn’t offer a hand. Just watched the man persevere through his own agony.

Only when he was on his two feet again, did Saix hold an arm out. He probably didn’t want to, but had to anyway. _Orders from the top._ Axel nearly collapsed into it.

He was led out into an open hall, going who knows where. But they kept walking. Saix slow, and Axel dragging his feet behind.

“You know,” he started, quietly, though he assumed no one else was around to hear it. “I would’ve preferred just dying. Lately, I started to question why we’re even here. We’re just... licking Xemnas’s boots. No other purpose than that.”

The majority of the pain was at his core, the same place he'd been impaled moments ago. He kept his free hand firmly pressed there. He couldn’t ever remember feeling anything like it. Not in this life. Before that, who knows. Hard to think back. Too much pain to think.

“You don’t get the privilege of dying.” Saix interjected. “You’re here now. So you’ll fulfill your duty. After that, do whatever you want.” Harsh.

It wasn’t really helpful, not even getting support from the last friend he had left. Axel hung his head.

“You couldn’t really force me. Ha.”

“Maybe. But I think a lifetime as a dusk might be a worse outcome than death. I think you might know that already.”

“You know, you’re sweet.”

They stopped in front of a door. Not a door Axel recognized, not in the state he was in. There were a million like it in this castle. Skinny, gray. Slid open from the left. It was the interior he recognized. Scorch marks and an unmade bed. Who else could it belong to but him?

Saix gave his arm a nudge, not enough to throw Axel off of it, but close. He stumbled anyway. “Go rethink your existence,” Saix said coldly, only a second more and he would push Axel to the floor, probably. Didn’t care if he was dying. Axel knew his friend pretty well. Or whatever Saix was to him now.

“Yeah, yeah,” Axel heaved, using his freed hand to clutch both at his chest harder, trying to stall the worsening pain there. Particles escaped from under his palms, but not as bad as earlier. Maybe Saix was right, he wasn’t really dying. Just close to it. Terribly and awfully. He hoped his next scrap with death was over with faster, and particularly more efficient.

And before he could tell Saix something to the same degree, maybe even a little darker, he quickly realized the man was gone already. The door slid shut behind him. No half-supporting arm left to lean on, just his bed. The one he woke up from that morning, hoping to never return to it again.

He slumped into it. Tried to imagine the pain wasn’t there.

Had he gone easy on Roxas? Of course. Seeing that kid ended by his own hands… somehow seemed like a worse outcome than the pain he was feeling now. Worse than Zexion, even. Not that he felt any real guilt after that one. Duh, couldn’t. He just thought about it a lot.

The chest pain spiked. He held his breath until it passed, collapsed down to his bed once it dispersed. Okay. Now that he thought about it, he really should feel guilt about the poor kid. Conniving and manipulative, yes. But Axel had watched him grow up. Watched him take his last breath, saw the life escape from his eyes. Pretty brutal stuff. But how could he feel guilty? He wasn’t _allowed_ to.

Maybe Lea would have been. Maybe if Lea was here now, standing over his bed, watching him in his most pathetic form, he would scold him for being so… Heartless... Stupid thought.

Vexen? Did he feel bad when he offed Vexen? Nah. Never liked Vexen or Marluxia. And if he was pressed, he probably wouldn’t think or feel any way about the next member Xemnas would inevitably have him destroy. Not Demyx. Not Luxord. Not Xaldin. Not Saix. That guy was an asshole. The only one that made him hesitate was Roxas.

Even when it was Roxas intent to destroy him. Somehow, he couldn't find it in himself to defend against that last blow.

And, because Axel had survived his last battle, that meant... he was going to be forced to witness Roxas’s end too, and... More pain. More unbearable pain. His vision blacked out for a few seconds.

He whinged. He pulled his torso, rolled around on it. Tried dispersing the pain through centrifugal friction. It didn’t really work. Not till he cleared his mind, tried meditating on the burned ceiling, tried counting the marks. Counted the times the pain peaked and flared, three, four, a space in between, five, even more space...six...six, that was it. Low pain. No more peaks.

He was left lying on his back, exhausted, as the ache stirred languidly. Every particulate he saw float off of his form was one more molecule of his energy stolen from him, unable to continue replenishing himself anymore. He wanted to grasp at them, gather them up and hold them close, but his arms weren't working. So he just watched. Losing the battle to count them, his eyes began to flutter closed.

Axel was lulled to sleep by the sound of wood cracking under a fire, pulling and breaking. He wanted to believe it was real, not just a hallucination playing inside his ears, that his body had succumbed to the flames once his mind gave up the quarrel and lit the whole place up, trapping everyone inside. He slept for three days, dreaming of hellfire, of choruses of screams, and of burning flesh and burning black coats. The stench of charred leather viscerally real.

When he awoke again, he was almost disappointed to find his body still whole.

A meeting was called. By the time Axel received his summons, he was back on his feet again, agile and deft, like normal. Could produce his flames again without them threatening to eat him up. And he did so before entering the hall, just for good measure, lighting up a huge torch and dispersing it just as easily. His hands smoked, but didn't burn away. He knew he’d have to be in good form. That he couldn’t step into a room of his peers without being able to defend himself on a moment’s notice.

Only a last injury remained. His insides stayed heavy, scarred up, stayed weighing him to the floor. Unusual, but then again he’d never been beaten within an inch of his life before. If he cut one of his arms off, likewise, he didn’t really expect it to grow back. Maybe this was just how it was, when your existence was already in disagreement with the laws or reality, and the worlds only barely allowed it. This was what’s left of your body. A ragged shell. Shoddily stitched together enough. Don’t squander it.

Black coats poured in. Axel was amongst them. He didn’t want to be. Didn’t ever want to be. Wanted to plug his ears when his Superior began speaking. Didn’t want to hear what was coming next.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “We received the news that Roxas is no more.”

 _Crack._ There was the pain again.


End file.
